Zoey awoke with the sensation of being wrapped in velvet. The sheet against her skin was soft, almost too warm, and the scent of melted wax and leather still filled the air as if the night before had been just a prelude. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. Then she remembered—the touch of silk, the blindfold, his tongue, the orgasm that shook her soul.

And Victor.

She turned slowly in the four-poster bed, looking for him. The red room was silent, bathed in a new, diffuse light. The ...